


It's always been you - A collection of High-Quality Johnlock Oneshots

by Thinole



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Awkward Flirting, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gay, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-12 03:35:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19939537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thinole/pseuds/Thinole
Summary: This is a collection of Johnlock Oneshots I have written.There is Angst, Drama, Adventure, Romance, Hurt and Comfort and light smut involved.***First chapter: Sherlock's ReturnAfter the two years of separation following the Reichenbach Fall, Sherlock stumbles into Johns life again...***Finally, John looked up.It seemed like his entire world stopped for a moment while he stared into these eyes he knew all too well and had been certain of never seeing again. The universe held its breath while John’s brain tried to comprehend what was right before his eyes.***Second chapter: You kissed meA case takes a surprising turn as the two rather unexpectedly end up in an... intimate position. Will they be able to control themselves or will their passion devour their companionship?***“That was one time and it was…” – a mistake, he had wanted to say, but looking down into Sherlock’s emotion filled eyes, mere inches parting their faces, he couldn’t. All John could see were his friend’s slightly parted lips and the shy anticipation and the fear of rejection in his eyes. How could he say no to this? How could John pretend he didn’t want this as well?





	1. Sherlock's Return

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the first oneshot in this collection!  
> Beware, it is rather fluffy!  
> I wish you a lot of fun reading this, please never hesitate to contact me on any matter, I do take criticism :)

Finally, John looked up.  
It seemed like his entire world stopped for a moment while he stared into these eyes he knew all too well and had been certain of never seeing again. The universe held its breath while John’s brain tried to comprehend what was right before his eyes.  
This was Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes. And he was alive.  
After the first shock, John’s legs threatened to give away beneath him, so he stumbled a small step backwards, but was suddenly stopped by a hand catching his own. It was only after it let go again, now certain that John would remain conscious, that John realised how _real_ it had felt, not at all like an illusion of his best friend, but actually… quite like he was really here with him.  
John tried to find words, to say anything at all, but the only thing that came to the surface of his mind was:  
“Sherlock.”  
How had the evening taken such a turn? When had this happened? Why had John been this indescribably unprepared? The last thing he remembered was him walking home alone after going to get the groceries alone and spending a dull day at work alone. Alone was what he had had these last two years. Alone protected him from ever feeling again, from ever letting someone get so close to him again, only to lose them when he cared the most.  
And suddenly, this tall man in a somewhat familiar coat had bumped into him. The only thing that had struck the former soldier as odd about this had been that the man had not apologised, in fact, he had not said anything at all and not continued walking, either. Instead, he had just stood there, staring down at John until the latter raised his eyes off the pavement and recognised the friend he had long thought dead and buried.  
“John, I am so sorry…”  
Sherlock stopped momentarily as he saw what an effect his voice had on his friend.  
‘He looks tired – sad – hurt… betrayed’ he deduced in his mind.  
“Sh- Sherlock? You’re not… dead? This is real?”  
John’s voice came out weak and unbelieving. As Sherlock noticed tears forming in the army doctor’s eyes, he quickly continued:  
“No. I truly am… so sorry. I realize… Well, what does it matter now or then, it wouldn’t have made a difference. You see, a sniper had had eyes on you that day and the only way I could make sure you survived and were unharmed was to- well, to jump.”  
John’s flinch at these words didn’t go unnoticed by the detective.  
“…and so, you see it was necessary to keep you in the dark about my location until now, John…”  
Sherlock saw so many mixed emotions in his friend’s eyes, but it seemed to him betrayal, pain and – understandably – anger were the most dominant ones. As his friend still didn’t talk, Sherlock continued:  
“Now, if you are going to punch me, which I would completely understand, can you please give me a warning so that I might at least brace myself? I think th- “  
The sudden collision of their two bodies interrupted Sherlock. John had thrown himself right into the consulting detective’s arms and was now leaned against him, face buried in Sherlock’s collar. Without missing a beat, Sherlock lay his arms around his friend and pressed him against his chest.  
‘He’s trembling’ he noticed but kept the thought to himself. ‘Does he have a cold? NO. That’s clearly a sign of heightened anxiety.’  
While John started to sob against Sherlock’s shirt, the detective noticed a row of other things he had rather not known, as they caused him a deeper pain than he would ever admit.  
‘John’ he thought, ‘thinner. 14Ibs. And weak, he hasn’t slept in days, that means he has nightmares. Because of the war? Unlikely.’  
Sherlock meant to say so much, but all he was capable of bringing over his lips in that moment was comforting nonsense.  
“John… my John- I’m so sorry. I’m here now.”  
From his sobbing friend’s posture and behaviour Sherlock deduced that John was in dire need of familiarity, safety, home.  
Just as he was. All Sherlock needed and had needed over the course of these horrible two years was John. The casualness and amity he provided, the secureness Sherlock always felt in his presence and the warm feeling he never ceased to inspire in his heart.  
Without lifting his face up from Sherlock’s chest, John mumbled with a tearful and hoarse voice:  
“Do you have any idea what I’ve been through because of you?”  
Sherlock hesitated for a moment, then, almost as huskily replied:  
“… I missed you just as much… Even though I would never assume I knew your pain… I’m sure it’s diff- Oh John, I’m sorry. Will you ever be able to forgive me?”  
“Just- never leave me again, alright?”  
“I wouldn’t ever. It has been hard – so incredibly hard – knowing you were here, lonely, waiting for me, but I couldn’t come to see you, John”  
“I understand.”  
“You do?”  
“Yes. Now, please, will you come home with me?”  
“There’s nothing in the world I would rather do”  
Slowly and carefully, John pulled back from the embrace and looked up at Sherlock. Upon seeing how distraught and desperate his friend really was, Sherlock quickly fished a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to John.  
“It’s ok now. We’re back together, just like in the old days”  
He assured John while the former army doctor wiped off his tears.  
***  
Later that night at 221B, the two men were sitting on their usual armchairs in the living room. Sherlock had been amazed to find out that John had not moved anything in the flat, not thrown out a single one of Sherlock’s possessions.  
“That’s not sentiment, is it?”  
He had asked, half-jokingly.  
“I suppose it is- in a certain way. I had always had the thought in the back of my head that one day you would just pop in and fill me in on the cases you have solved. You see, every time I tried to get rid of one of your things, I thought ‘He’s going to need that, later’ and I just couldn’t. I just couldn’t accept your death.”  
The doctor had replied, staring into his mug of tea.  
Upon arriving, Sherlock had immediately started deducing everything John had done in the flat while he had been gone, judging by the different layers of dust on tiles and wardrobes. He had only stopped this little game of his when he noticed that there was no dust whatsoever on the drawer that contained John’s gun. It had obviously been opened and closed again many times. A lump had started to form in Sherlock’s throat, but he was unable to bring the matter up, it just was too close, too painful for this night of reconciliation.  
Now, they were just looking at one another, taking in all about each other’s features as if they had to make up for all the time they had spent apart. They hadn’t really talked about those two years, as neither of them was ready to do so just yet, so they just sat there, drinking tea, thinking about how much both their lives had been changed today.


	2. You kissed me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A case Sherlock and John are working on together takes a surprising turn as the two flatmates rather unexpectedly end up in an... intimate position. But have they both been hiding something personal concerning the other? Can they control themselves or will their passion devour their companionship?  
> ***  
> “That was one time and it was…” – a mistake, he had wanted to say, but looking down into Sherlock’s emotion filled eyes, mere inches parting their faces, he couldn’t. All John could see were his friend’s slightly parted lips and the shy anticipation and the fear of rejection in his eyes. How could he say no to this? How could John pretend he didn’t want this as well?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
> I can't believe this little story got more than 80 clicks already - I truly wasn't expecting this, as I have posted nothing but the first chapter up to now, but I am so happy, I really am, to find that so many people apparently ship Johnlock with me and enjoy reading my stories.  
> Huge thank-you to everyone who left kudos, subscribed or bookmarked, you're the best!  
> Now enjoy part two, it's a light smut, but not too graphic ;)

They were on a case. All day John Watson and Sherlock Holmes had been dashing around London, collection and combining clues and evidence and finally ended up in Finsbury Park in the north of the city on a deserted spot of grass surrounded by hovering dark trees.   
While they were walking across the terrain, John a few steps ahead of his detective friend, the former army doctor suddenly felt long and bony fingers sneak around his wrist and try to fixate it. Before he could think, John’s soldier reflexes set in and, smacking the attacker to the side of the head with his elbow and then proceeding to kick the man’s legs away from beneath him but being dragged down as well by a desperate grip at his collar, John only moments later found himself leaning above a man lying flat on his back, completely stunned by the former soldier’s sudden outburst of violence.  
John blinked. The man whose head he had trapped between his hands which were firmly pressed into the grass, supporting his weight, was Sherlock. After the first moment of shock, the detective clumsily reached out to take hold of John’s sleeve in astonishment of the sudden proximity. The doctor, now beginning to sense the adrenaline that had taken hold of him in the moment of the alleged attack, hissed angrily:  
“Christ, Sherlock! What do you _think_ you’re doing? You can’t just touch me from behind like that – invade my private space! You scared the hell out of me! Don’t touch me again, understand?”  
Immediately as John noticed his friend’s expression, however, he felt guilty for having overtaken and shouted at him like that in a moment of anger and shock.  
With an unusually soft and confused voice and a certain insecurity in his mesmerising eyes that made them look almost child-like, Sherlock whispered:  
“But- you… kissed me”, making it almost sound like a question.  
John froze. The memory of that last night. The drinks they had had together. John staring intently at Sherlock’s swinging curls as his friend laughed – they had looked like black velvet and oh, how soft they had felt as the former army doctor sled his hands into them, slowly and gently pulling Sherlock closer until, softly at first, their lips had touched. Both men had pulled away instantly, searching each other’s eyes for the feelings they felt and an indication of what the other wanted. Then, shyly but steadily growing bolder and more passionate, they had kissed again. Sherlock’s hands had found their way to John’s cheek and neck while his friends’ were deeply buried in the detective’s raven curls.  
“That- “   
John began hesitantly, still leaning above his friend.   
“That was one time and it was…” – a mistake, he had wanted to say, but looking down into Sherlock’s emotion filled eyes, mere inches parting their faces, he couldn’t. All John could see were his friend’s slightly parted lips and the shy anticipation and the fear of rejection in his eyes. How could he say no to this? How could John pretend he didn’t want this as well?  
Following the gentle tucking at his sleeves, the doctor leaned down a bit more, crossing the last bit of air parting the two men, and then…  
But before his lips could brush against Sherlock’s, the consulting detective whispered:   
“John?”  
Blinking as if trying to snap out of a paralysis, John quickly sat back upon his feet, now kneeling at Sherlock’s side, re-establishing the safe distance between them and allowing Sherlock to sit up again.   
Leaning up first on his elbows and then fully sitting up, the consulting detective winced almost unnoticeably. His friend’s violent attack had not left him unharmed, but he definitely wasn’t going to mention that now.  
Sherlock took a deep breath. Then, with an almost steady voice, he asked:  
“John, are you using me as a distraction?”  
John was completely taken aback. He felt the anger and other emotions he could not quite identify welling up inside him again as his friend pushed a stray curl out of his eye. Still on the adrenaline and other hormones, John’s hands grabbed Sherlock’s throat and, pushing the detective backwards roughly until they were in their former position again, pressed and prevented the air from moving into his friend’s lungs.   
The vicious impulse only lasted for a few short seconds, before Sherlock’s panic-stricken hands could tear at John’s firm ones, the latter had already significantly loosened his grasp at his friend’s throat and instead had begun gently tracing the detective’s jaw with his thumb. As Sherlock made no movement or sound that could indicate that he wanted John to get off him, the doctor slowly and carefully cupped his friend’s cheek with one hand and, before he could help it, let his thumb gently glide over Sherlock’s lips, parting them slightly.  
John leaned down until his mouth almost touched his friend’s ear and whispered hoarsely:  
“You know what is distracting?”  
Sherlock let out an unidentifiable sound of surprise and excitement as his friend’s teeth nibbled at his ear lightly.  
John continued just as quietly:  
“Your stupid beautiful face, your stupid gorgeous eyes and your fucking perfect lips are distracting, and they should be none of my business, but Sherlock…” John said, almost hissing the name out between his teeth and looked down at his friend once more, eyes shining in the dark evening, “…I want to mess you up!”  
John chuckled as he noticed his friend’s breath hitching at those words. Before Sherlock knew it, John had stood up, leaving him trembling on the ground. Taking the doctor’s hand, Sherlock got pulled to his feet and together they crossed the lawn to hail a cab.  
***  
During the taxi ride home, John’s hand rested heavily and possessively on Sherlock’s leg. Getting into the cab, John had immediately placed his left hand on his friend’s knee, but Sherlock could sense it sliding upwards slowly over the course of the drive, if intentionally or not he did not know.   
While Sherlock was unlocking the door to their second floor flat at 221B, he sensed a continuous stare and as he turned around to find the source of the uncomfortable feeling, he found John’s eyes intently fixed on him and tracking his every movement.  
“Is everything alright?”  
The clueless consulting detective asked while pushing open the door. Instead of answering, his flatmate took a step towards him and thus urged Sherlock to walk into the flat backwards. When both men had entered, John wasted no time.   
“Sherlock”  
He let out while pushing his friend into the next wall and slamming the door shut with his free hand, the one that was not grabbing Sherlock’s collar.   
“Did you like me kissing you?”   
John teased as he sensed the detective’s accelerated pulse and flat breathing – not that he had needed any further indications of his friend’s feelings as Sherlock’s cheeks were bright red and his eyes roamed over John’s face restlessly.  
“Ah, _John_ ”  
Sherlock moaned as the former army doctor forced a finger between his friend’s lips.   
But John wasn’t done yet. He had begun this his way and he was going to make sure it continued his way.  
“What do you want me to do, Sherlock? I want you to say it!”  
The soldier’s loudness increased with his steadily growing pulse.  
Sherlock, hands pressed against the wall at his sides and trembling but still trying to keep control and a good face retorted:  
“From your aggression and your obvious need for close physical contact I deduce that you are not in fact pugnacious but immensely sexually frustrated- “  
He was harshly interrupted by John’s mouth attacking his throat and biting and sucking at the sensitive skin there.   
When Sherlock regained the ability to breathe, his voice came out thin and hoarsely:  
“- this, however, does not mean that you have to do anything you don’t want to – you don’t have to take on me if that makes you uncomfortable, you should know that I am willing to wait for you any time you name.”  
“You’re not _getting_ it, Sherlock, are you?” John answered fiercely, “I am not doing this out of sexual frustration or lack of intercourse. I am doing it because I fucking love you and your every breath and movement is an immense turn on I cannot ignore. If you want this, I want this. So – _Say it_!”  
Sherlock hesitated for a moment, stunned by his friend’s words. Then he whispered:  
“Kiss me?”  
And only a heartbeat later John had gotten up on his tiptoes and joined his lips with his friend’s, pushing Sherlock into the wall quite harshly in the process, but the detective could hardly be bothered by that in that moment. This kiss was different than the ones they had shared the night before. There was a note of need in it that scared and excited both of them and when John’s tongue danced around Sherlock’s lips, it was quickly allowed entrance and soon the two flatmates were intently exploring each other’s mouth.  
When they pulled away, gasping for air, Sherlock for the first time since they had entered took a step away from the wall and, taking hold of John’s upper arms and staring into his eyes with a mixture of emotions whose intensity was comparable to a huge dose of drugs, he said:  
“I love you, John Watson. I think I have felt this way for a very long time, I just couldn’t identify the notion of sentiment that had taken hold of me.”  
Then, after a short moment of examining his flatmate’s reaction closely, he added:  
“My bedroom. Now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, thank you to everyone who read this, I hope you had some fun ;)  
> If you could spare a moment to leave a quick little comment or even just a kudo I'd be thrilled!  
> Thanks and see you in the next chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and do let me know what you think of it by leaving kudos or comments :)  
> Pretty please?


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